


Kairos

by insearchof



Category: MapleStory
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, i cant say any more or else i'll spoil it, slight mentions of phanaria and lumilania
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-23 20:52:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19158772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insearchof/pseuds/insearchof
Summary: For as long as he can remember, Eunwol's dreams have been haunted by a mysterious man named Freud. He thinks nothing of the dreams, until he meets an identical Freud in the waking world, who enters his life and changes it forever.





	Kairos

**Author's Note:**

> i actually got a beta reader this time !! special thanks to my friend annie, @anothers_Dream_ on twitter for helping me make sure this wasn't an absolute mess, ily <3

They are as vivid and sharp as nightmares, but as comforting as the breeze on a hot summer day that blows past just to remind you that you aren’t alone. The dreams are sporadic, recurring, and he’s had them for as long as he can remember.

The first one came when Eunwol was still a child. It was a stormy night, weeks after he moved into Silver’s house with his baby sister, Moonbeam, who, at the time, was sleeping in their grandfather’s bedroom. Eunwol was all alone, curled beneath the blankets that didn’t smell like home, and trying to ignore the bright flashes of lightning that tore through the sky outside of his window.

When he finally managed to fall asleep, he found himself in a dense forest. Eunwol remembers, in the dream, that he had felt oddly hungry, as if he hadn’t eaten in days. It was a strange type of hunger, too -- he can still remember the powerful feeling of emptiness in his stomach, the ache as it begged for food of any kind, as if he truly were starving in real life. His dream self then continued to trek through the forest, only stopping occasionally to examine the foliage to see if anything edible resided within it. It was a directionless dream, characterised by frustration as he failed to produce food through his attempts at foraging. Everything in the forest looked to be dangerous or exotic, and he had no tools for hunting besides a small knife strapped to his belt, which would no doubt be useless in bringing down a substantial meal.

His dream self was considering just eating the next mystery plant he came upon in hopes of satisfying the persistent growls of his stomach, when his ears picked up on the sound of somebody humming a song. Cautious but curious, Eunwol advanced in the direction of the song until he came upon a clearing in the woods.

At the centre of the clearing was a brown haired man in a red robe, kneeling near some plants and preoccupied with writing in some book.

“Hey,” Eunwol called out, and the man turned around, looking surprisingly calm, as if he had been expecting him.

“Uh, I was just wondering if you had any food to spare,” Eunwol continued, and for a split second, his eyes locked with the ocean-blue eyes of the stranger in his dream. The stranger’s slightly widened eyes seemed fathomlessly deep, just like the sea, and the man looked as if he were consumed by thought at Eunwol’s words. They took Eunwol’s breath away, and almost made him forget the hunger that gnawed at him.

A moment passed, filled with intense staring, before the man’s serious face broke out into a kind smile. “Of course! Come, sit, have lunch with me. What’s your name, stranger?”

“Eunwol.” Eunwol didn’t budge from his spot. His dream self’s instincts screamed at him not to trust this man. But he was so hungry...

“Ah, Eunwol, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m Freud,” the man named Freud said with a chuckle. He beckoned Eunwol with a wave. “Are you coming over here?”

In the last moments before he woke up from the dream, Eunwol remembers looking into Freud’s eyes once more, scouring them to see if he could read their hidden intents.

Yet despite all his efforts, there seemed to be nothing but infinite kindness in those beautiful, blue irises.

When he woke up in the morning, Eunwol remembers laying there in his bed, the image of Freud’s eyes glowing in the depths of his mind as he contemplated the meaning behind the strangely realistic dream. He ended up concluding that it was nothing more than a coincidence, and brushed it off as such.

But for some reason, he never seemed to be able to forget the dream man. Freud. The man with the most lovely eyes he had ever seen. Eyes that soothe the soul and warm the body with their mere presence. Eyes that seemed more familiar than his own home.

Freud became a part of his life after that.

Lifelike dreams of the man would float into his sleeping consciousness throughout Eunwol’s childhood, and they just never quite went away. Usually, the dreams are of scattered sensations. A soft hand pressing into Eunwol’s. The wind whipping past his long, black hair, which obscures his vision for a mere moment as someone laughs happily in the background. The smell of ink and paper and the sound of book pages being turned vigorously, as if its reader is seeking an answer within.

Sometimes, much more rarely, the dreams are of a specific situation: Eunwol’s miserable attempts at cooking for Freud after a long day spent studying fantastical monsters in the field; travelling the world with Freud, seeing monuments and people of the dream universe; laying in bed beside Freud in the darkness, whispering conversations and sharing silly jokes that somehow made them both laugh like grade school children. These dreams reveal more information to Eunwol, and slowly but surely, he begins to learn about the character of the strange realm of his dreams.

The most ironic thing is how unrealistic the dreamworld --which, according to Freud, is known as Maple World-- is. While the experiences Eunwol goes through feel uncannily realistic, Freud, in Maple World, is a talented mage capable of great feats of magic, something that doesn’t come close to existing in real life. There are dragons, fairies, and all manner of bizarre creatures that Eunwol has never heard of, such as Flyeyes and Cellions. There are places that he can’t imagine himself making up on his own, such as the mushroom village of Henesys, and the sky-high city of Orbis.

He can definitely write a detailed book about the contents of his dreams, if he wanted to.

But Eunwol never tells anyone of his dreams. Who does he have that will even listen, even care? Silver will blame it on an overactive, youthful imagination. Moonbeam will chalk it up to him being his ‘usual weird self’, if he can even find a chance to speak to her between her outings with her friends. It seems as if telling someone is pointless and won’t lead to anything, so he keeps his mouth shut and continues on with his life, doing his best to live like a ‘normal person’ does.

One night, however, the pattern changes.

He’s laying awake on his bed, staring at the red LED lights on his alarm clock displaying ‘3:00 AM’ as he muses over his most recent dream. Usually, the dreams are pleasant and leave him waking up refreshed. This one was strangely short, and the feeling it left in his gut makes him uneasy.

The dream simply comprised of Eunwol waking up in El Nath, a village in Maple World he has visited before, only to find that Freud was not in the room with him. Instead, in the unoccupied space next to him on the bed, was a neatly folded piece of paper. Eunwol scrambled to his feet in the dream and read it.

_Eunwol,_

_I fear that something has turned up at home in Leafre, and I must return. Being a personal matter, I didn’t want to get you caught up in it, seeing how peacefully you were sleeping. I left some money for you to continue staying in El Nath for the time being. I know how you are, so don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine._

_-Freud_

This is the first dream he’s ever had where Freud isn’t present in one way or another, and despite himself knowing Freud is but a figment of his imagination, it left Eunwol feeling troubled when he awoke.

He can’t sleep now, his thoughts are in disarray. He tosses and turns in bed, wondering if the dreams will stop after tonight, and if he’ll never dream of Freud again. It feels irrational, Eunwol thinks, but the change is incredibly disturbing, bothering him to the very core.

So, after half an hour of hazy paranoia, in an attempt to calm his nerves and tire himself out, Eunwol slips out of bed, puts on some clothes, and decides to go for a walk.

The streets are nice and quiet at night. He strolls down the sidewalk, hands crossed behind his back, and wanders around the nearby suburbs. He tries to look up and study the stars as he walks, but his mind is still elsewhere, firing rapid thoughts about Freud.

It’s pathetic, really -- he’s a twenty eight year old who still lives with his grandfather, and is so lonely that he is having an existential crisis over a dream where his imaginary friend didn’t show up.

As he continues chiding himself for being immature and stupid, though, something moves in the corner of his eye and causes him to look back at the street.

It’s a black cat. And it’s walking straight at him.

Eunwol kneels onto the ground as the cat gets closer, and the ghost of a smile tugs at his lips. He’s always loved animals, and cats are some of his favourites for how intelligent and independent they are.

“Here, kitty kitty,” he murmurs, offering it his hand. The cat walks right up to him, showing no signs of fear, and nuzzles its cheek against Eunwol’s hand lovingly. That’s when Eunwol notices the collar around its neck. A golden tag dangles from it, matching the colour of the cat’s large eyes perfectly.

After a moment’s hesitation, he scoops the cat up in his arms and carries it over to a street light, where he can get a better view of the tag.

On the front of the tag is the name ‘Afrien’, carved in delicate cursive. On the back is a phone number in the same font, followed by the words, ‘Call if Found’.

It’s three in the morning, Eunwol thinks as he stands there, petting the cat’s head while deep in thought. No one’s going to pick up. But he doesn’t just want to steal someone’s cat, or worse, leave it out here, lost. So he ends up deciding that he’ll compromise: leave the owner a voicemail, and return Afrien in the morning. Eunwol turns to look at Afrien, who stares back with intelligent eyes that blink twice, as if voicing its approval.

Shifting Afrien to one arm, Eunwol pulls his phone out of his pant pocket and dials the number.

Four rings later, someone picks up.

“Hello? Who’s this?” a sleepy voice asks. In that moment, Eunwol feels his blood run cold, but he bites his tongue before he can say anything stupid.

“I found your cat,” Eunwol manages in the most even voice he can muster.

“Ah!” The voice sounds pleased. “I’ve been looking for him for a week. He runs off a lot, always finds a way to sneak out of the house without me knowing.”

“He does look like a smart cat,” Eunwol murmurs, the cat emitting a low purr in response to his words. As if agreeing. “What’s your address? I’ll drop him off right now,” he continues distractedly, pulling up the GPS on his phone.

As the man gives him his address, Eunwol can’t help but note the voice’s unsettling similarity to Freud’s. But it can’t be him. There’s no way, it just doesn’t make sense with the laws of the universe. Freud doesn’t exist, has never existed, and never will exist.

Eunwol finds himself rushing to the man’s address as soon as he finishes punching it into his phone. It’s not far from here, just a fifteen minute walk, and he soon arrives there out of breath, having jogged the entire way while carrying Afrien.

The house’s exterior is simple. He’s surely seen it before while exploring the neighbourhood, but has likely never paid any attention to it due to its unassuming design. Walking up the driveway, Eunwol’s heart begins to pound and he tightens his grip on Afrien, much to the cat’s displeasure.

This has to be some kind of sick joke.

With a deep breath, Eunwol knocks twice on the door. Someone on the other side unlocks it. Turns the knob. Pushes it open.

And then it feels like time itself has stopped.

In the doorway stands a brunette man with cerulean eyes and a welcoming smile. Eunwol can’t help but stare at those eyes. They are the same, kind eyes that he’s seen so many times throughout the years. There’s no doubt about it.

“Thank you so much for returning Afrien,” the man says. Eunwol barely registers it as Afrien wriggles out of his grasp and scampers into the house. He’s too busy gawking at the ethereal man before him.

“I should probably introduce myself. I’m Freud,” says the man, whose expression slowly shifts into one of concern. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Eunwol says quickly, swallowing all his questions. “I’m Eunwol. Sorry to bother you at this time of night.”

“It’s no bother at all,” Freud laughs. God, even their laughs are the same. “Do you want to come in? I made some tea to keep me awake before you arrived.”

“I’m good. I need to get home. I have, erm, work in the morning.” Eunwol lies, which earns him a raised eyebrow from Freud because it’s Sunday.

But the man doesn’t stop him.

“Alright, thank you so much once again. I hope you make it home safe,” Freud says with a bright smile. Realising that that is his cue to leave, Eunwol nods and waves, and Freud returns the gesture before closing the door and leaving Eunwol alone on the porch, in the darkness.

There’s no way what he just experienced isn’t a dream.

Eunwol almost wants to bang on the door so that the man named Freud will answer it again. So that he can finally get an answer to all of this, even if his questions will make him sound like a madman.

In the end, though, Eunwol doesn’t let his impulses get the better of himself, and he heads home with more questions in his head than he had set off with.

It’s this odd turn of events that causes him to tell someone about his dreams for the first time, a week and a half later.

He’s at his workplace, Rien, a seaside cafe, and it’s a relatively uneventful day. Aran, his manager, is chattering about the dream she had last night to Cassandra, a customer who specialises (though Eunwol doesn’t believe her) in the occult.

“So, what does it mean?” Aran asks, leaning closer to Cassandra enthusiastically.

“Well, dreams about flying mean that you’re trying to escape some sort of pressure in the real world,” Cassandra says matter of factly, taking a sip of her milk tea. “You’re likely stressed about some real life situation, and your spirit seeks to be freed as a result.”

“That’s such a general statement,” Lilin, one of Eunwol’s coworkers, says from across the room as she wipes the counter down. “It’s just like astrology. It’s all a sham.”

“You don’t even remember your dreams,” Aran protests with a pout. “So you have no say in whether or not Cassandra’s readings are true.”

“Those who don’t remember their dreams are less imaginative than those who do,” Cassandra adds. “Less willing to have fun and believe a little in the forces they can’t see.”

Lilin rolls her icy blue eyes. “So I’m the only sane person in this room?”

“I’d say Eunwol’s also pretty sane,” Aran laughs. “What about you, Eun? Are you a non-rememberer like Lilin here?”

“I’ve had my fair share of dreams that I remember,” Eunwol says. He continues to dry the cups that have just come out of the dishwasher, hoping that that would steer the conversation away from him. He already has enough to think about.

But Aran persists. “Then tell Cassandra about one of them. And if she’s right, then there has to be some kind of truth behind these readings, right?”

Not wanting to be a buzzkill, Eunwol relents.

“I guess,” he says, putting down the cup in his hand. He looks at Cassandra, who smiles and raises her chin slightly, as if she’s ready for his challenge. He blinks and asks his question, not expecting a real answer. “What does it mean when you dream of someone again and again?”

“It means that you’re in love with them, duh!” Cassandra giggles. “You’ve probably thought of them so much that your mind can’t even stop thinking about them, even when you’re asleep.”

Eunwol feels his face redden. “But what if you dreamt about them before you even met them?” he asks before he can stop himself. It’s only after the words leave his mouth that he regrets asking such a strange question.

“Ooh, you might have some psychic powers of your own, then,” Cassandra says, placing her index finger onto her lips thoughtfully. “But more likely, the two of you are meant to be soulmates. The forces of the universe are trying to bring you together!”

“Who’s the lucky fellow?” Aran interjects. “I never thought I’d hear of the day our Eunwol fell in love.”

“We’re not in love. We’ve barely even spoken,” Eunwol mutters, looking down at the cup of the counter so that his long hair will hide his blush.

“Alright, maybe it’s not love yet,” Aran says with a grin. “But who is it? Do we know them? What’s their name?”

“Yeah, give us a name, at least,” Cassandra adds.

Eunwol looks around to notice that all three of the people in the cafe are staring at him, including Lilin, who is doing her best to look disinterested. He swallows, his mouth suddenly feeling dry.

Why is he so nervous?

“His name…is Freud,” Eunwol says quietly. He’s hoping that will satisfy their curiosity, but Aran’s eyes immediately light up.

“Is the Freud in question brown haired and blue eyed?” she asks.

“Yeah.” He tries to keep the shock out of his voice. This all just keeps getting weirder and weirder. “Do you know him?”

“Of course I know Freud!” Aran laughs. “He was in my dorm in college. I think he works at the library nowadays?”

“He does,” Lilin says. “He’s one of Neinheart’s friends. They still sometimes talk.”

“I’ve seen him around too,” Cassandra chimes in. “He’s a smart looking guy. Quiet, like you.”

“You two would make an adorable couple,” Aran agrees, and before Eunwol can stop her, she shoots out another terrifying idea. “I know! Cass, Lilin, why don’t we try to hook them up?”

“Yes! Oh my gosh, that sounds like so much fun. I’m definitely in. What about you, Lilin?” asks Cassandra. The blue haired girl shrugs in response.

“If it goes wrong, this isn’t my idea. But I guess we can do it.”

“No, let’s not do it,” Eunwol protests. “We don’t even know each other that well.”

“Not yet, but you will soon enough. It’ll all come together,” Cassandra assures him. “The dreams can’t be wrong. You two will be _so_ compatible, I can already see it.”

Eunwol doesn’t say anything, he just purses his lips as he watches the trio of girls start discussing their plans for setting up him and Freud.

If he really has to, he can just refuse them over and over again. Maybe if he’s firm enough, they will back off.

But a part of him...He thinks of the Freud he met that night, the real one that has the eyes and laugh he’s dreamt of for over two decades. His expression softens slightly before he internally groans, realising what he’s doing to himself.

Could it be that he actually wants this?

Eunwol lowers his gaze and stares at the blue ceramic cup on the counter again, as if looking at it hard enough will make his feelings disappear. But then, he realises he doesn’t want those to go away either.

Maybe he doesn’t fully understand his own emotions yet, Eunwol thinks. But what he does understand and know, is that he doesn’t want to feel lonely anymore. All his life, he’s felt as if he’s been missing something inside of him; every time he’s woken up from a dream, he’s wanted to go back; and at the end of each day, he finds that he can’t help but wonder why his heart feels so empty, despite the people in his life.

Thinking about those hauntingly beautiful blue eyes that hold so much warmth, Eunwol feels his heart begin to race, and he moves his hand onto his chest so he can feel its livid, beating pulse. He takes a deep breath and exhales.

Is this what it feels like to love someone?

* * *

The three women end up organising a meetup at Rien for the people who used to be in Aran’s dorm. They send out the letters, make the phone calls, and in the end, two dozen people agree to come participate in some casual festivities and catch up with one another in a week.

The night before the party, however, Eunwol has another unsettling dream.

He is in El Nath again, and he is wandering around the town aimlessly, waiting for Freud to return. Eunwol is sitting on a bench, making a snowball out of boredom, when he hears someone approach him. He’s immediately on guard -- people don’t usually talk to him in dreams unless they’re looking for trouble. The clawed knuckles he carries everywhere with him are already strapped around his hand, ready for combat. Slowly, so as to not send the person into a panic, Eunwol looks up, pretending that he’s just noticing their presence.

But it’s no stranger. It’s a friend of Freud, an old, bearded man dressed from head to toe in a white that matches the snow around them.

It takes Eunwol a few seconds to think of the man’s name.

“Grendel?”

“Hello, Eunwol.” The man inclines his head. Though Eunwol cannot see Grendel’s expression due to the brim of the man’s hat, he immediately senses something is wrong by the somber aura around him.

“Why are you all the way out here?” Eunwol asks.

“Freud wanted me to let you know that the Black Mage has been defeated.”

Eunwol’s eyes widen. He doesn’t know a lot about the Black Mage, other than the fact that he used to be a scholar like Freud, but turned to the dark arts and became corrupted as a result. From what Freud’s told him, the Black Mage is a very powerful man who seeks nothing but to destroy the current order of the world.

“Well that’s some good news,” Eunwol says slowly, nodding his head. One less bad guy in the world means one less person who is potentially out there to kill him, right? “How’s Freud doing?”

Grendel falls silent for a moment. When he speaks again, his voice seems to be coming from far, far away. “Freud died fighting the Black Mage.”

“What?” He drops the snowball in his hand.

“Freud died fighting the Black Mage,” Grendel repeats. When Eunwol doesn’t say anything, he continues. “Freud found out about one of the Black Mage’s plans, an attack on Leafre. So he went to try and stop it. He told me if he didn’t make it back, he wanted me to tell you everything that happened-”

“Stop,” Eunwol says, his voice cracking. Even though he knows this is just a dream, he feels his chest tighten up and tears begin to prick at the corners of his eyes. Grendel can’t be talking about Freud, _his_ Freud. There’s no way. Freud is too smart, too well-prepared, too good for an ending like that.

There’s just no way.

“Very well,” Grendel says solemnly. He produces an envelope from the folds of his robe. “Here. He wanted you to have this.”

Hands shaking, Eunwol accepts it and carefully opens it, extracting the letter from inside with the utmost care, as if he’s holding Freud’s remains in his palms. In a way, he supposes he is.

_Dear Eunwol,_

_If you are reading this, I hope you can find it in your heart to one day forgive me. If not, then at least forgive yourself, as you have done nothing wrong._

_I don’t believe I can justify my actions to you -- I simply want you to know that you were the greatest friend I ever had. Despite what you think, I don’t believe there to be another person in this world as compassionate or loyal as you were to me._

_I’ve spent much of my life alone, perhaps by choice, or perhaps by chance. I am eternally grateful, though, for the day you came up to me outside of Leafre and asked for food. Without you, I may never have known what it feels like to love someone with all their being._

_I’m sorry. I didn’t know if I could save any innocents with the power that I had, much less save myself. But I do know that I could never bear it, in life or in death, knowing you died trying to save me. I refuse to let you meet such a fate._

_Please stay safe from here on out. I can only hope that you will live a long, meaningful life now, with one less evil in the world to hurt you. You being well and alive will be well worth the sacrifice I had to make._

_I love you, my friend. Maybe in another life, we’ll be able to be together again._

_Yours forever, no matter where you go,_

_-Freud_

Immediately after he reaches the letter’s conclusion, Eunwol finds himself being forcefully pushed out of the dream by a cloud of panic -- he wakes up in cold sweat, his head buzzing, and his eyes feel raw as if he has been crying for hours. It’s dark all around him, but the blinding whiteness of the snow that had been around him moments ago still flash before his vision. He shivers and touches his fingers to his forehead.

What is becoming of him?

He lays there for a while: for how long, he doesn’t know. But he simply lays there until the sun begins to trickle through his blinds, trying to remember all the dreams he can. The dreams of libraries and monsters, the dreams of forests and stars, he runs as many of them as he can through his mind to try and recall the warm, loving feeling of being with Freud. When that fails, Eunwol grits his teeth and pounds his fist into the mattress in frustration.

He can’t lose Freud. Even if the Freud he loves is just a part of his subconscious, he can’t bear the thought of him being gone forever.

The rest of the day passes rather uneventfully, with Eunwol sulking around the house as he replays the dream from last night in his head, wishing he had answers to what he should do.

In the end, he decides to still try going to the party. It seems to him that the only place he can find answers now is with the Freud of the real world, and not the Freud of the past.

He must be going crazy, Eunwol thinks as he gets dressed for the party later that evening. There’s no tangible reason for him to be this obsessed over someone that’s not real: and even if he is real, he has no idea if the real Freud likes him or not. Much less love and care for him the same way the one in his dreams did.

Maybe tonight’s the night he finally gets over this childish phase of his life.

He puts on the last article of clothing, a black dress shirt, and tilts his head, examining himself in the mirror. Locks of black hair frame his angled face, and his violet eyes stare back intensely, deep in thought. If he had a tie on, he’d look like he is going for an interview. He frowns at his formal reflection, but after thinking it through more, he realises he isn’t sure what else he’d wear either.

Hopefully, Aran and the others can forgive him for never having dressed for a party in his life.

He sets out, and by the time he arrives at Rien, it’s a little past eight, the party’s starting time.

“I thought you’d never show up!” Cassandra calls when she sees him enter. Her voice barely makes itself heard over the vibrant chatter and music in the cafe, and Eunwol is thankful that she doesn’t draw too much attention to him. He walks over to her and sits down at her table. Lilin’s brother, Neinheart, is also there.

“Don’t you think this is a little extra?” Eunwol asks.

“Extra?” Cassandra laughs and pats at her blonde hair. “Everything is fine the way it is. Anyways, what are you even doing here with us? You should be looking for your lover boy.”

“Who?” Neinheart raises an eyebrow.

“It’s a long story,” Eunwol says quickly and gets up, eager to remove himself from that conversation.

It doesn’t take him long to find Aran who is serving refreshments to a table full of people. Eunwol’s breath catches in his throat as he sees a certain brown-haired man among those at the table.

“Ah, Eunwol! Come here, meet my friends,” Aran exclaims as she sees him approach. The four man table is full, so Eunwol just stands there awkwardly before Aran pulls him closer by the arm and begins pointing out her college dorm mates with enthusiasm.

“Luminous, Phantom, Mercedes, Freud, meet Eunwol,” Aran says with a grin. “He’s an employee here, but I’ve given him the night off because I want him to make some friends.”

“Nice meeting you,” the blond man Aran pointed out as Phantom says, tipping his hat and flashing a charming smile at Eunwol.

“Your hair is very nice,” Mercedes, the elegant golden-haired woman, comments, nodding in approval.

“I believe we’ve already met,” Freud chuckles, making Eunwol’s heart skip a beat. “He’s the one who found Afrien after he ran off a few weeks ago.”

Only Luminous doesn’t speak. Instead, the silver-haired man sits there and sips at his coffee, studying Eunwol curiously with his off coloured eyes.

Despite that, the conversation flows freely from there on out, with Aran and Phantom leading them into chatting about a variety of subjects from work to the movies they’ve seen recently. Eunwol learns that Phantom has inherited his father’s travel agency, Lumiere, and that Mercedes runs a horse-riding program on a farm out of town. Even Luminous eventually breaks the silence and comments on how his work at a company called Aurora is going, before sharing that his favourite movie is _Masteria Through Time_ when the question is raised.

Then, Aran moves the conversation towards the topic Eunwol has been dreading the most: their love lives.

“So, Phantom, how are you and Aria getting along?” asks Aran.

“We are doing great,” Phantom says, and for a moment, his confident expression morphs into a softer one, before changing back within the second. “I’ve been thinking of proposing to her soon. I’ve already begun checking out rings…”

“Aria really is a lovely woman. She’s a good fit for you,” Freud remarks. “When are you thinking of proposing?”

“In a month or two, most likely. I want our wedding to be next spring, so it should leave us with enough time to plan things that way,” Phantom replies, taking a bite out of one of the brownies on his plate. “What about you? How’s your search for love going?”

“I haven’t found anyone yet,” Freud admits. “Still waiting for that special someone to show up in my life.”

“You haven’t found anyone at all?” Mercedes asks, seeming surprised. “Come on, even I’ve got prospects. You don’t even have a _single_ person you’ve considered?”

“There are a few people I’ve thought of,” Freud replies. He smiles to himself. “When the time comes, I’ll be with the right person. You guys don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

_Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine._

The room spins under Eunwol’s feet as he gets a vivid flashback to the dream where had woken up to Freud’s first letter. The foreboding feeling that shadowed over him a weeks ago starts to come back, crawling up his spine and constricting his throat.

“How’s Lania doing, Lumi?”

“She’s great, as usual.”

“How long have you guys been dating? It feels like forever.”

“Only a few years.”

_Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine._

_Why now? Anywhere but here,_ he thinks as he struggles to maintain his composure. His breathing becomes laboured as an irrational panic begins to settle throughout his body, and he finds himself glancing over at the real Freud, wondering if this one is going to die as well.

“Eunwol, you good? You don’t look so hot,” Phantom says, tilting his head.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Eunwol says weakly, mustering a smile. “Been kinda sick the past few days, with dizzy spells. I think I need some air, I’ll be right back.”

Not looking back, Eunwol hastily walks out of Rien and down a flight of wooden stairs, making his way to the beach below.

The nighttime air is chilly, but pleasant, carrying hints of summer’s warmth from the day. Eunwol ignores the sand in his shoes and walks until he’s near the shoreline. Once he’s there, he sits down on a large boulder and undoes the first button of his dress shirt in an attempt to free his lungs. He takes deep, heaving breaths and buries his face in his hands as he tries to get rid of the sick feelings threatening to overwhelm him.

He can’t lose Freud again. He doesn’t know what that means, but that’s all he can think as he sits there, wallowing in his own self pity and baseless fears.

“Eunwol?” Freud’s voice shines like a light through the darkness, and it makes Eunwol turn around to see the man’s silhouette approaching, out of breath.

“Are you okay?” Freud asks, his brows furrowing in concern as he sees how disheveled Eunwol must be right now.

“I’m fine,” Eunwol mumbles. He forces himself to relax, forces his shoulders to untense. “Just a bad dizzy spell.”

“Ah, alright. I just didn’t want you to be out here alone, in case something happened,” Freud says, gesturing at the rock. “May I sit? If you don’t mind the company, of course.”

Eunwol nods wearily, and Freud in turn makes himself as comfortable as he can on the irregular slab of stone.

They sit for awhile like that. Eunwol’s breathing slowly returns to normal, and the vertigo begins to fade after a few minutes of the dull, spinning sensation. Eventually, he’s sitting straight and fully recovered from the odd wave of nausea.

Eunwol decides to break the silence at that point in time.

“I really appreciate you coming out here to keep an eye on me,” he says, wiping at the thin layer of sweat that’s gathered on his face with his fingertips.

“Of course. Isn’t that what friends are supposed to do?” Freud smiles.

Eunwol finds himself smiling back in amusement at the man in the red polo shirt. “Since when did we become friends?”

“Since you found Afrien and brought him back to me,” replies Freud. He looks off into the distance at the sea. “I’m afraid I’ll actually lose Afrien one of these days. That he’ll wander off and never come back. I don’t know what I’d do without him to keep me busy.”

“Yeah, it really hurts, losing someone close to you,” Eunwol says quietly, following Freud’s gaze. The moon is shining bright, perched in its spot in the sky between stars, as always. It reflects off of the ocean near the horizon as small strip of light bending on the water’s surface. Out of all the things that change, the sky is one of the few things that always stays the same, Eunwol thinks. It’s always there -- perhaps in different forms, but it always watches over the people who need it most.

He wonders if the sky he look at in his dreams, in Maple World, is the same sky.

“Do you believe in fate?” Freud suddenly asks, and Eunwol turns around to meet the man’s eyes. There’s that thoughtful, curious shine in them, the kind the dream-Freud always got whenever he focused on a difficult problem.

“What do you mean?” Eunwol asks.

“It’s a rather silly question, I guess,” Freud admits. He holds Eunwol’s gaze. It’s like pressing light against dark, radiance against the dull, ever-same void. “I was just wondering if you believed in something that was meant to be. Like meeting a specific person or finding a specific thing at certain time and place. Or are you more of a ‘coincidences happen’ person?”

“I don’t really want to believe in fate sometimes,” Eunwol replies after some thought. “Because that would mean that no matter what I do, I’d be stuck with the same thing. And if it’s that thing is something bad...I don’t think I would be able to bear it, knowing that I could never have changed a situation by doing things differently.”

“I see,” Freud says with a gentle smile. “But what if it was something good? Would you be willing to accept that that’s what you’ve been dealt in life?”

“See, that’s where I’m not sure,” says Eunwol. “I’ve always felt like there’s something in the universe that makes certain things happen over other things. I’d hate if I just happened to ‘get lucky’, and deprive someone else of that chance to be happy. But it’s also not as if working hard gets you everything. You have to work hard and also be lucky.”

“ _Kairos_ ,” Freud murmurs.

“Huh?”

“It’s a rather archaic term,” Freud explains, turning back to look at the sky. “It means something along the lines of the ‘opportune’ time and place. A belief that there’s a moment where you act that changes everything. I suppose, from what you say, life is shaped by a series of those moments.”

“Yeah, I like the sound of that,” Eunwol says. “It’s better than just having fate on its own.”

Freud laughs. “It seems we’ve reached a compromise, then. A happy ending to this silly debate.”

“It’s not silly.”

“Other people seem to think that it is. They don’t like it when I get all technical on them.”

“Well, who cares about those people, then? They’re not worth your time.”

Once again, the pair fall into a peaceful silence. Eunwol shifts his position on the rock during this time in an attempt to get more comfortable, and consequently, his hand brushes against Freud’s. He mumbles a quick apology, but to his surprise, Freud grabs his hand for a moment before abruptly letting go. Neither of them say anything about it, and they just continue to sit there, observing the stars above and enjoying each others company.

For the first time in a long while, Eunwol feels whole. If he could, he’d choose to spend the rest of his life in this singular moment, savouring it until the end of his days.

The pain he feels for the loss of the dream-Freud is gone. It’s been replaced by his desire to be with the real Freud, someone he might be able to have if everything goes well…if his _kairos_ is kind to him.

Around eleven, Freud gets up and tells Eunwol that he has to leave with a sad smile, which Eunwol groggily accepts. He’s sleepy himself and he feels drunk, even though he’s had no liquor. So they bid their farewells and part ways: Freud back to his plain, nondescript house, and Eunwol back to Silver’s place, where he’s spent most of his life and seemingly will spend the rest, in isolation from the rest of the world.

Yet that night, to his surprise, he has one more dream.

In this dream, he feels tired, as if he hasn’t slept for days. His legs are terribly sore, his head aches, and yet, he still feels the need to keep on walking. He’s looking for someone: a myth from his childhood, someone that’s only talked about in conversations of legends and lore.

His dream self’s vision fades in and out of consciousness as he walks, the scenery around him changing each time, and his body growing progressively more and more tired. But eventually, it all stops. He’s then at the base of a large tree that extends into the clouds. It looks impossible to scale, but Eunwol must try. He has to get to the top, he thinks, without even knowing why.

And so he begins. The dream is torturous, he is always out of breath, and Eunwol tries many times to wake himself up, but his body just keeps climbing up the tree’s trunk, ignoring his protests. He isn’t in control at all. Something else is driving him.

Then it begins to rain. A torrential cascade of water bursts out from the clouds above, drenching Eunwol and weighing him down. He can’t even see, with the rain battering at his face, but he knows he must go up. He continues on, his hands feeling bruised by the force he’s exerting, and his shoulders barely able to pull him up another step.

After what seems like an eternity of climbing, he reaches the sky’s ceiling. The tree still extends upwards, past a curtain of clouds, and Eunwol grits his teeth and forces himself just a _little_ bit more, knowing that what he seeks is right ahead.

Panting and vision blurring at the edges, Eunwol hauls himself past the cloud layer and emerges in a whole other world, the likes of which he’s never seen before. He stands on a layer of cream-coloured clouds, so soft and malleable that it feels as if it’d give way at any moment. The sky around him is such a brilliant blue that it almost hurts his vision to look at it. This is a place that isn’t meant for mortals.

“Who are you?”

The female voice resonates all around him, making the air hum with her words.

“Just a traveller with a wish,” Eunwol replies, falling to his knees partially out of respect, and partially out of exhaustion. He lowers his head. “Fox God...Will you listen to my plea?”

A bright flash of light suddenly envelops him, causing Eunwol to close his eyes. It doesn’t help, though, and he feels as if the light is burning away at his very being, frying him to the centre of his soul. Then, as quickly as it appeared, it vanishes, and Eunwol opens his eyes and looks up.

In its place is an enormous, cream-coloured fox with azure tinted ears and eyes.

“I shall. Speak, human,” says the Fox God.

“I’ve heard of the tales, that you would grant a traveller’s greatest desire if they managed to somehow reach you,” Eunwol starts off. He presses his head to the ground in another act of reverence. “So I am wondering if you could possibly grant mine.”

“You already know what the answer to that question is in your heart,” the Fox God replies, a tinge of amusement in her voice.

Eunwol’s nails dig into the cloud-ground and he looks up. “So you cannot grant my wish?” he asks.

“I cannot bring the dead back to life. The cycle of life is not mine to meddle with,” the Fox God says plainly. Anger and hopelessness starts to well up in Eunwol’s chest, but before he can say anything, she continues. “Therefore, I cannot grant you your wish in the way you would like. But there is something I _can_ do for you. If you would have it.”

“What is it?”

“This reality isn’t the sole one that exists within the universe,” says the Fox God. “If you really want to see your friend once again, I have the power to send you to another, where your friend is still alive and well. Where you two could be friends once more.”

Eunwol considers her offer for no more than a second. “How does this work?”

A radiant swirl of translucent blue materialises behind the Fox God. She steps aside, and Eunwol stares at the apparition in wonder. There is a strange energy radiating from it, the likes of which he’s never felt before. It’s as if it’s tugging at the very fabric of his existence.

“You’ll be reborn as a new person,” the Fox God explains. “And you’ll meet your friend once more. It’s quite simple, really. The only question is, are you willing to leave behind everything you have in this world for him?”

Eunwol gets to his feet, and with some effort, looks up at the Fox God. Her expression isn’t unkind -- it’s actually understanding and sad, as if she knows the pain he’s been through.

“Yes,” Eunwol says with confidence. “If it means being with him again, I’ll do anything it takes.”

“Then enter, and be reborn.”

The translucent blue energy starts to expand, reaching towards Eunwol, and he steels his nerves to make sure he doesn’t run from the powerful aura. Within seconds, the energy has surrounded him, and he feels the sensation slowly start to fade from his limbs. It doesn’t hurt, Eunwol thinks as he watches his arms become translucent as well, a mere phantasm against the contrasting colours of the Fox God’s domain.

The last thing he remembers thinking of is how the portal’s blue matched the breath-taking hue of Freud’s eyes.

And then he wakes up.

Eunwol slowly sits up in bed, pulling his arm from out under the covers to look at it. It’s not translucent like it was in the dream. It’s whole. He looks over at the window to see slivers of morning light trailing through his blinds, and he realises that, for the first time in a long while, waking up has brought him peace.

 _Is this all meant to be?_ he wonders as he stares at the beams of light that reveal the dust specks floating through them. _Is this what Freud meant by ‘fate’?_

After an hour of deliberation, he resolves to get up and call Freud.

He rolls over on his bed and finds his phone on his nightstand. Picking it up, he scrolls through the calls he’s made until he finds Freud’s number. He hesitates only slightly before dialing it.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Eunwol says softly, “it’s me. Eunwol.”

“Oh, it’s you! What can I do for you?” Freud laughs, as if he’s pleased to hear from him.

“Can you meet me outside Rien in a half hour, before you have work? There’s something really important I need to tell you. In person.”

Silence on the other end. Then, in a serious tone, “Of course. I’ll see you in a bit, then.”

Eunwol waits a few seconds before hanging up and subsequently pulling himself out of bed. He gets dressed, brushes his teeth and washes his face, taking his time. The rush and frenzy he’s come to associate with waking up from dreams is gone now, replaced by an accepting calm.

Truth be told, he has no idea how he’s going to explain this to Freud, but he’s going to try his best. That’s all he can do now.

Half an hour later, Eunwol strolls down the wooden stairs leading to the beach, only to see Freud already there, sitting on the rock they had been on last night.

Freud immediately notices his presence and waves him over.

“Hey,” Eunwol greets once he’s close enough. He sits down on the rock and stares out into the ocean, realising how different it looks during the day, where you can see how vast and endless it truly is. He wonders what lays at the other end, and if someone is looking out at him right now, too.

“Hey. What did you want to talk about?” Freud asks.

Eunwol pauses. He turns to look at Freud, who’s observing him with a searching expression, as if trying to read his mind. The look almost makes Eunwol laugh. It’s so typical of Freud.

“It’s kinda a long story. Do you have time?”

“Of course. Don’t worry about the time.”

And with that, Eunwol begins his story. He starts from the beginning, telling Freud about how he had dreamt of their meeting in another world as a child, how they had met in a forest while Eunwol was searching for food and how Freud had offered him his lunch out of kindness. He tells him of the silly adventures they’ve had in another life, exploring the depths of Maple World and documenting everything in Freud’s thick book of information they’ve discovered while on their travels. He speaks of the morning he woke up and found that Freud wasn’t there, then of the letter Grendel delivered to him, of his despair and desperation, and then, finally, of his visit with the Fox God.

All the while, Freud is keeping a straight face somehow, though he does try to suppress a smile when Eunwol describes his failed attempts at cooking for him.

“And that’s it. I just wanted to let you know about these dreams, because they’ve been making me feel crazy. They don’t mean anything, but they’ve been bothering me a lot. I also wanted to apologise if I’ve acted weird towards you because of them,” Eunwol concludes, looking down at the rock. He is almost scared of how Freud’s going to react. No, he _is_ scared. But he had to let him know, or else he would’ve gone mad himself.

“Eunwol,” Freud says simply. That’s all he says for a while, as if he’s trying to think of what to say in response to his wild tales. And then, he continues. “Eunwol. I’ve been having the same sort of dreams too.”

Eunwol freezes in place. He replays what Freud just said over and over again in his head. And then, when he still can’t believe it, he asks, “What?”

“Eunwol, look at me,” Freud says softly, and Eunwol does as he is prompted. He raises his head to look into Freud’s timeless blue eyes, and like usual, his heart begins to throb with a strange emotion he cannot identify.

“I never thought I’d tell you,” Freud continues, placing his hand on top of Eunwol’s. “I thought I was crazy when you showed up on my doorstep that night, with Afrien in your hands. I thought you’d think I was crazy, if I told you that I’ve been having dreams of you ever since I was a child, and that I never knew why.”

“I thought the same,” Eunwol admits quietly. Something is beginning to swell up behind his eyes. “I’ve wanted to be with you for all this time, even before I found out you were a real person. And then when I did, God, I…I didn’t know what I was going to do.”

“You know, I used to think you were my guardian angel,” says Freud in an attempt to lighten the mood. “I guess in a way, you were.”

Eunwol manages a smile, yet for some reason, he still feels as if he’s about to cry. “I guess it all makes sense now. I can’t believe that you’re from my past life. That’s crazy in itself.”

“Crazy, but I suppose that’s how the universe is at times.” Freud cups Eunwol’s face, and the action makes him melt on the inside. “As bizarre as it all sounds, I feel like I finally understand the feelings I’ve been experiencing for all these years.”

“Me too.” Tears start to roll down Eunwol’s face as he feels emotion overwhelm his composure and burst. He inhales jaggedly. “I don’t even know what’s real and what’s not anymore, but I just know...I want to be with you.”

“And I, you,” Freud replies, his lips turning upward into a slight smile. “Now, we can be, right?”

“Only if that’s what you want,” Eunwol presses his hand onto Freud’s, feeling the warmth sink into his skin. “I just hope it won’t be too weird.”

“I’ve known you for a whole lifetime, so I’ve had my share of your ‘weird’,” Freud chuckles. “Though I don’t think you’ve changed at all, even once we entered this life.”

“I’m not the only one. You’re still ever the bookworm.”

“As long as I’m your bookworm, I think I can be fond of the title,” Freud retorts.

“Then so be it. The bookworm and the weirdo, together forever,” Eunwol says contentedly, closing his eyes. He can hear the sound of the ocean’s waves lapping at the shore, wearing away at the sand as it’s done for all eternity. He can hear the sound of seagulls crying out, flying over the bay and calling to each other.

But most importantly of all, he can hear Freud’s laughter, as lucent as the sun itself, and he can hear his own laughter in response, so full of happiness as he sits by the side of the man he’s loved for two lifetimes now, the man he’s loved for as long as it’s ever mattered.

Maybe one day in some other distant future, it won’t matter anymore. Maybe in his next lifetime, or in a lifetime separate from this one, he won’t even be with Freud. Or maybe they’ll both simply cease to exist after this one, extinguished at a whim like the flame of a lighter.

For right now, though in this time and place, in this moment of _kairos_ and fate, Eunwol knows that it does matter -- and perhaps, that belief itself is enough to shape the rest of their lives into something that remotely resembles a happy ending for them both.

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked it/are interested in more freunwol...let me know or hit me up, so i can relish in the fact that i'm not the only person out there who adores this ship omg. thank you for reading !!


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